


I Have These Lucid Dreams...

by Shalandrassil (Fanferal)



Category: World of Warcraft
Genre: Crying, Demon Hunters, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Flashbacks, Hurt/Comfort, Men Crying, One Shot, PSTD, Short One Shot, illidari - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-28
Updated: 2018-10-28
Packaged: 2019-08-09 03:08:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 730
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16441856
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fanferal/pseuds/Shalandrassil
Summary: Ever wonder why the Illidari are so despondent?





	I Have These Lucid Dreams...

**Author's Note:**

> Lucid_Dreams_Juice-wrld.jpg  
> Edge.png
> 
> Wrote a short piece of my boyfriend's demon hunter being comforted by my mage! Some of the implications in this little blurb may or may not be triggering, read carefully!

“You could have saved us..” He was back on Quel’danas again. Dressed in unfamiliar armor, under the banner of their Prince. Furies danced around him, echoing pleas and curses at him.

“Save us!”

“—! Help me!” 

“Why didn’t you help us, —?” 

It always faded out before they said his old name. 

One of the female creatures rushed him, her face tattooed in lilting, graceful designs. They mirrored his own. “Save me!” She cried.

At once they all dove for him, shouting and pleading. He remembered them. He couldn’t forget, not matter how hard he tried.

“Stop.” He mumbled. They kept up, their begging coalescing into a screaming crescendo of misery. “Stop!” 

“This is not what I wanted!” He screamed at the top of his lungs, sitting up in bed. He had been screaming into the empty black this whole time. 

Beside him, another mass stirred. “... Tora?” The voice was from the present. It didn’t belong to her. It belonged to Celyssena.

She sat up. “Are you alright?” Concern laced her voice, one of her hands made contact with his back. He didn’t realize he’d been sweating.

“Yes.” He answered. Then he realized that was a stupid answer. “No. I—“ his voice caught. His throat closed up. “I need a minute.” He croaked out.

“Noitora—“  
He whimpered into the dark. He thanked whatever gods or titans that still listened to mortal prayers that she didn’t turn on the lights and see his face. Unashamed, Noitora pressed his face to her shoulder in some crude way to seek comfort. 

He began to sob.

No tears fell from his eyes. He’d maimed his tear ducts long ago during the ritual. Some Illidari chose to go the more brutal route and claw their eyes out, he had simply obliterated his, using fel daggers in a more ritualized blinding ceremony. It took it all, eye, optic nerve, tear duct. He didn’t need them.

Until he realized how much he’d actually miss tearing up. 

Celyssena wrapped her arms around him the best she could, attempting to figure out if she could comfort him more than she already did. He locked his arms around her waist, his grip possessive and desperate, as if she’d slip through his fingers like her predecesor. 

“Do you need anything?” She asked quietly, “Water, tissues—“ 

“No.” He mumbled, voice quivering; “No just—“ he couldn’t get the rest of it out. Whether it be his pride or his inability to voice what he truly wanted in that moment, he didn’t know.

He just wanted to be held.

Celyssena seemed to understand this, and set to work stroking his hair and shushing him. He felt as though he were being mothered. He slowly slid into her lap, feeling his arms and body begin to tire from one position. 

“If only.. if only.. the moon speaks to reply..” She sang softly for him, “Reflecting the sun, and all that’s gone by..” 

Noitora hiccuped.

“Be strong my weary wolf, turn around boldly.”

He took a deep, shuttering breath. 

“Fly high— oh, are you feeling better?” Celyssena asked. He didn’t know if she was looking down at him. He didn’t want to know.  
The answer was no. His face was hot, his throat, chest and stomach ached, and he didn’t want to go back to sleep. “... a little.” He mumbled, turning his face a bit to the side to bury his nose in her belly. Her presence was soothing. He could hear her heartbeat. 

“Why don’t you go wash your face, alright?” She suggested gently. He nodded, dumbly, and stood on shaky legs that carried him to the bathroom. 

A quick glance in the mirror. His face was definitely red, but it wasn’t puffy. He didn’t physically cry, tears at least. Crying was a whole body experience for him.

As he splashed some cold water on his face, Celyssena came into view. She stood in the doorway, a concerned expression on her face. He hated that look. She always looked a little sad when she was concerned. Like she could sense his pain. 

“Do you.. want to talk about it?” She prompted quietly. It wasn’t a demand, more of a chance. She wouldn’t force it if he didn’t want to. 

“No.” He said flatly, shaking his head. “I’m sorry Cel I—“

“Don’t apologize, Tora.” She placed a hand on his arm, just above his elbow. 

“.. I love you.”


End file.
